


body memory.

by anoetic



Series: grief work. [1]
Category: Professional Wrestling, Tokio Hotel, World Wrestling Entertainment
Genre: Angst and Feels, Foreplay, M/M, Making Up, Post-Break Up, Rare Pairings, Reconciliation
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-16
Updated: 2020-10-16
Packaged: 2021-02-27 09:54:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 4,537
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22275166
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anoetic/pseuds/anoetic
Summary: “If he calls, don’t fucking answer cause it’s gonna be more of the same old shit.”
Series: grief work. [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1661830
Comments: 2
Kudos: 5





	1. written on the body.

**Author's Note:**

  * For [coldsteelrail](https://archiveofourown.org/users/coldsteelrail/gifts), [UncheckedAggression](https://archiveofourown.org/users/UncheckedAggression/gifts).



> this was a real treat to write! i found a new artist, general vibe. the song "nectarines" sums them up perfectly. as always, thank you for reading and kudos and comments are always appreciated!

Maybe that’s true. Maybe this will be more of the same old shit. And maybe that’s what Bill is hoping for as he gets himself dressed up in the mirror thinking only about him, not about the consequences, not about the emotional spiral this will no doubt throw him into later. Love has him twisted into autopilot, fingers zooming a sweet text his way. He doesn’t hide his heart this time with him, what good would it do? 

Roman has seen it all anyway. 

He’s probably a nervous wreck himself right now, wringing his hands and scouring his fingers through his hair as he paces back and forth across the floor of his hotel room, closed eyed and deep sighing. Bill remembers that sight well, something kind stirring deep in his heart. He knows that he’ll always be soft for Roman, would always be wound up sweet around him no matter the crazy shit that burned down between them. He would forever be the first one and the only one to reach down that deeply into Bill, to tear him fully open, never once turning away from what he saw and instead running head first into it, open armed and brave.

Roman would be the only one who would ever know Bill like that, of that Bill was certain, swearing on it as he charges down the highway, the street lamps all bleeding together orange and hungry red. He doesn’t respond to his friend’s text, her warning heard, but not received. Bill is used to making mistakes, but he doesn’t feel like this one is something that he’ll regret in the morning.

He misses Roman. He’s missed him every day since they separated. He hasn’t spoken to him or heard from him at all– until this evening. It felt like time had stopped when he received Roman’s text, his test. It wasn’t too emotional or long winded, just a simple offer to meet at his hotel room because he’s been missing Bill and would like to see him.

There was no hesitation to reply, Bill’s acceptance instant and that shocked him, how thoughtlessly quick he had responded to him, his hands going cold and his heart wild in his chest, all of his thoughts blurring together into a frantic mess that eventually settled on one thing– Roman. His face, his body, his touch, his warmth and all at once Bill was struck down, lost in remembering him until his stomach knots with a million butterflies. He knows he’s running on memories, still lives of something that once was, something that used to be, but he doesn’t want to think about that now, the feeling is enough, the pounding of his heart is enough. 

It has to be enough.

He’s making his way towards the front of the hotel now, practically running through the lobby and to the closest elevator. It’s nearing nightfall and it’s dead quiet. It’s unsettling to him and briefly he dares to pity himself, contemplating if he’s an absolute fucking fool for doing this, for being in this elevator in this hotel to see a guy he broke up with nearly a year ago, for not knowing what he wants from this situation, for not knowing what he wants from him, for answering his fucking text. 

But by the time Bill manages to come up with an answer he’s knocked at Roman’s door already and he can hear the muffled thump thump of his feet across the floor as he walks to the door, the handle turning and the door opening up to him, long black hair hurriedly done up in a bun and the rest of him in a loose tee shirt and lounge pants.

They regard one another then, saying nothing, both of them feeling as if this moment was so entirely impossible for so long until now, until tonight. It’s as if the wound had suddenly been split right open in front of them, both of them well aware of it, but too afraid to touch it and so they continue to look sadly at one another, suffocating in the silence until Roman asks Bill to come in and he does, eyes shamefully to the floor as he brushes past him into the room. Roman closes the door behind them and the sound of it makes it feels final, real, whatever this moment is between them and it sends chills chasing up Roman's spine, unnerving him. He turns to notice Bill again, standing still in the entryway. He doesn’t say anything, robbed of the ability to and stunned breathless with how stupidly gorgeous Bill is.

'How long has it been?' he wonders to himself, taking in the reality of Bill’s presence, black boots and those always too tight jeans, billowy striped sweater that Roman loved to run his hands up under, the skin beneath blushing with goosebumps, that beautiful face and that perfectly teased blond hair.

It was comforting to see, that some things would never change no matter what, that Bill was always beautiful, that he is beautiful, that he always would be. For a second Roman finds himself feeling a little self conscious about his own get up, scratching at the back of his head before clearing his throat to speak. He swallows, gaze faltering to the floor, fearing the words he’s been meaning to say won’t come up and he’s worried that he may ruin this again.

He can feel Bill’s eyes on him, watching him and butterflies begin to swirl about in his belly, his nerves shot. Is he judging him? Roman certainly wouldn’t blame him. He hears him take a few steps towards him and he lifts his head to see Bill there standing in front of him, raising a hand and resting it gently against Roman’s cheek. It startles Roman, the softness of Bill’s touch, its familiarity and how it sends the butterflies in his belly into an absolute frenzy. He can feel his body rise up like wildfire, every nerve twisted up with panic then it slow simmers into recognition, his eyes meeting Bill’s, brown sugar luscious and sweet that never failed to turn Roman’s heart to honey and he smiles, happy and at ease. Bill mirrors back to Roman that same tenderness and smiles, golden and rosy cheeked. 

The wound is still there at their feet, fresh and seeping, but so is love and it finally touches Roman’s lips, gently at first, coaxing him open until Roman kisses Bill in return, grabbing his waist and pulling Bill into his arms. It feels like homecoming, Bill’s body fitting so neatly into Roman’s body, like it was born to be there, flesh to blood, love to need, each kiss full with longing and apology and Roman wishes that they could stay like this forever, kissing and kissing and kissing, tears starting to push at the corner of his eyes as the butterflies dance and dance.

It feels like nothing short of a miracle, this feeling of Roman’s skin hot against Bill’s skin, Roman’s mouth wet against Bill’s mouth, love spinning brilliantly, madly around them and all Roman can say is that he misses him, panting the words in between each kiss, gasped out into the warmth of Bill’s mouth. “Missed you, missed you so fucking much,” he whispers again and again, and Bill accepts him, nodding his head and kissing him back in fervent reply, again and again. They fall into the bed and kiss and kiss and kiss some more, swallowed up blissfully into one another.

The hours waltz by, feeling like pinpricks cool on their skin as they remember each other, blessing trembling skin and goosebumps, the sheets crowding messily about the two men, twin limbs a happy tangle of one another while they work out their need. Bill’s body is still a wonderland, nothing short of heavenly sitting on top of Roman, tattooed fingers smoothing themselves across Roman’s bare stomach, pretty lips curving into a satisfied smirk and Roman can’t help but grin in response, loving the feeling of Bill on top of him, his hands palming at the swell of Bill’s ass, squeezing the flesh beneath his jeans in appreciation. The sensation sends stars shooting through Bill’s head, a moan hot in his throat as his lips taste Roman’s once more, tongue stud dipping teasingly between them.

The rules aren’t quite as clear anymore, but Roman is glad to follow Bill’s lead, fingers streaking themselves through blond strands, lazy rolling his hips up against Bill’s, lingering kisses down the curve of his jaw, brushing along stubble and precious skin. “You need to tell me what you want, pretty boy,” he quietly reminds Bill, pausing to run his tongue along Bill’s adam’s apple, careful hands sneaking themselves up under the backside of Bill’s jeans, gripping the warm flesh beneath once again. Despite what it seems like, a frantic reconciliation fuck isn’t what Bill is looking for, it’s Roman that he wants– his touch, his presence, his attention and at least for now Roman is giving that to him.

It’s mutually satisfying to have each other like this, caught up beautifully in one another and Bill couldn’t ask for anything more, settling into the possessiveness of Roman’s touch, greedy and wanting it all to himself as he turns his hips round against Roman’s waist, desire marrying desire and a laugh leaves Roman’s lips, utterly pleased with his boy and he asks him to spend the night with him. “Stay up till sun up?” he wants to know, flash of that golden boy smile and a hopeful raise of his brow. “Yeah,” Bill whispers in warm reply, without question and without hesitation, lips finding Roman’s again for the millionth time and Roman kisses him back, tracing his fingers up underneath Bill’s sweater.

The night passes them by then, the city fast asleep while they lay fast awake, living on lovers’ time, retracing their every step, every breath and truth, the blood between them running sweeter and sweeter, the wound turning light in the morning sun.


	2. history isn't always kind.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> sometimes this feelings shit gets... tough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> looks like we may have something new on our hands! it has been pretty nice to let this come and go as it has pleased, writing when i feel like it, not writing when i don't, allowing the words & their interactions and the emotion to come naturally rather than scripted or structured.
> 
> as always, comments & kudos are always appreciated!  
> thank you for reading.

The hotel room becomes their new life, the hours blurring lusciously together as they love one another on borrowed time, each touch of the skin intentional, careful and bare. "This is the first time I have been sober before having sex, you know?" Bill announces it simply as a matter of fact, rather than confession, uninterested in being the focus of Roman’s pity. He's being open about himself and that's more than good enough for Roman, his hand resting warmly against Bill's cheek, gaze even with Bill's own. Condemnation isn't his style, especially not when it comes to something as delicate as this. 

They both suffered, that much was true and it became another unfortunate bond strained between them. Bill doesn't wait for a word, continuing. "I couldn't do it any other way, you know. Like, I had to be stupid drunk, not like blacked out, but just fucked up enough to where I could feel everything, just not emotionally, you know?"

He pauses then, watching Roman watch him without judgement or question and he smiles, grateful for his presence, for all of his heart and how good it is. It moves Bill to tears, he tries to swallow them back but they show up anyway, tickling at the corners of his eyes and he shrinks away from Roman, feeling shame of his own kind burning up through his chest.

"Couldn't do it any other way," he mumbles, the words grieving and he grits his teeth through it until he feels Roman's thumb gently dotting his lids, wiping the tears from Bill's face. Shame gives way to relief and a small laugh wafts into the coolness of the room, Bill showing up once again for Roman's attention, returning his same light. "That's pretty bad, huh?" he whispers and Roman nods in agreement. "Really fucking bad," he replies softly, wrapping Bill up into his arms then more determined than ever before to never let him go again. 

He's understanding of what Bill’s done, despite the knife of guilt twisting itself hard into his stomach. It was hell for the both of them, but that makes this that much sweeter, doesn't it, knowing heaven was right there on the other side of the fire, right here crying in Roman's arms. "Fucking terrible," Bill swears, softening into Roman's loving embrace, accepting him without a fight. The wound closes up for a moment then, the ache between them sifting into something easier, tender to the touch and this time nobody is wincing in pain when it’s acknowledged. 

This time, there’s longing, apology, forgiveness.

They both know that this is going to be a serious process--winding, long, demanding and ugly, but then there's the love, the love and all of its beautiful, precious things. They're locked up right with one another, sworn down to the soul to one another, love sat there pleasantly at the bottom of them, waiting patiently for both of them to reach down deep into it and claim what was always there between them, what has always belonged to them.

Roman felt like a royal jackass for taking so long to see it, to see Bill, truly see him, all of him. He never knew how tragic it must have felt for Bill to be on the other end of his not seeing, to have endured the unbearable agony of being unseen for so long by him, by the one he loves.

It was mortifying to Roman to realize that, guilt tearing his heart into shreds, plunging him into an emotional crisis he had never experienced before, everything of him utterly wrecked with grief and at the time there was nothing he could say to him. They had already separated and he was sure his call would have been ignored-- and rightfully so. 

He wrenches his eyes shut at that, feeling the raw sting of memories clawing at the surface. Now more than ever he wishes he could fucking erase the pain of it from his mind, from his heart and Bill's, too.

When did this suddenly get so fucking difficult?


	3. if he were.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so yes, once again i have found a new artist that fits my heart.... vashti bunyan. the title of this chapter is based off of her song, "if i were". definitely a song that describes their current state of relationship.  
> thank you for reading and for your kudos, comments, bookmarks and subscriptions!

"You keep messing with me. All the fucking time," he says, smiling wide, tattooed fingers curling around beautiful black strands, no real effort to pretend that this is a reason to be frustrated. He’s teasing, after all, the shell of his lips barely there against the crown of Roman’s head, a bed of kisses climbing to the top. "A real fucking pest," a soft accusation, pretty lips still sweet in a smile and Roman returns his gift, laughing quietly against Bill's cheek, his mouth pressing a secret to the blushing skin there. "Why can't you get rid of me then?" Bill laughs now, fingertips caressing the back of Roman's neck, tickling goosebumps that rise up into his warmth. He trails them slowly, lovingly down the dip of Roman's back, tending to every tender inch of skin, glitters of evening sun curving golden between Bill's fingers. Their silence is deliberate, his eyes meeting Roman's eyes, measured and delicate. 

This is new ground, unfamiliar territory they're stepping into, a precious world between them where every move they make with one another matters. This moment is no exception, the intimacy buzzing around them is delightful & for once Bill chooses to be mindful of his mouth, not saying anything as he continues to let his hands say hello to all of Roman's body, every nerve and tendon teasing open into his touch. Bill opens his mouth to speak a few kisses later, but he doesn't seem to remember what he said because they have sex for the second time shortly after he gives his reply.

Love holds many dimensions, Bill realizes now in the morning after as he dresses himself in the hotel mirror. There's a difference about him now, it feels lighter, more pronounced somehow and he feels like he's been perpetually on a cloud, floating somewhere high above the rest of the world, impossible to catch and impossible to see. Feeling curious he brings a hand to the side of his face, studying his features. After a moment’s observation, he's pleased, the curiosity of a cat turning to that of a schoolgirl high in love.

It's the after glow that surprises him, pleasantly so and he giggles cheekily to himself, rocking on his heels and out of the corner of his eye, in the glossy reflection of the mirror he spots Roman, elbows atop his knees, chin resting on the seat of his hands, watching him from the foot of the bed, his gaze proud and his smile endearing. Naturally, Bill giggles again and all of the earth jumps for joy.

Roman thinks happiness is such a good look on Bill. He loves the way it moves him, spinning him around and alive, bursting him with light. He likes when Bill slinks his fingers between his as they walk around the neighborhood, side by side and hand in hand. It means something. It means that he's trusting him again. Each day holds its own promise, one that is full with Bill and all of his light and that is something that Roman vows to never take for granted again.

But there’s something that still keeps following them around, unspoken and untouched. Roman can see it in the way that Bill looks at him sometimes, his heart breaking. They both see that the house they’ve built is still in flames, burning alive with grief. Who says the first word to put out the fire? The sun sets on the valley of Los Angeles one more time and they’re tangled up in bed in Roman’s hotel room, Bill whispering against the heat of Roman’s neck that he loves him. He feels Roman’s embrace tighten, crowding Bill in surety and affection. It soothes him, his body relaxing against his, spatters of evening light dusting skin and skin. Roman loves him, too and reminds Bill so, dotting a kiss to Bill’s temple, but privately Roman is beginning to worry and the house is beginning to collapse.


	4. you haven't learned a thing, have you?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> what's that saying about old dogs and new tricks...?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> trigger warning for verbal abuse / anger in this chapter.  
> thank you for reading and as always, kudos, comments, subscriptions & bookmarks are always greatly appreciated!

Sometimes we make the same mistake again and again, over and over, the consequence never brutal enough to wake us up to reality. As the saying goes, old habits die hard, but sometimes they cost us.

Dearly.

Bill likes cooking. It’s a skill that did not come naturally to him, mom was loving enough to teach little one how to crack an egg, sift the flour and pinpoint the perfect moment of ripeness of the blueberries that would soon be bubbling in the pan. He readily admits to being more interested in the after of cooking than the before, a poor habit that followed him into adulthood until love touched him. After that moment he suddenly found that food tastes better freshly prepared rather than freshly microwaved as his lovers would fast agree.

After all, the way to a man’s heart is through his stomach and so he forever committed himself to the kitchen, scouring through cookbook after cookbook, licking knife nicked fingers and running cold water on those stubborn burns from impatient hands and absent minded thoughts. He has had several pots boil over, gorgeous cakes deflate in the oven, depressed and tragic as he curses to hell and back, dumping the fucking thing on the counter in hopeless frustration. He feels good when he is cooking. He feels special, stirring his love for him into a grumbling pot of pasta, the earthy touch of rosemary and basil dancing about wildly into the air. He knows that this is his love language, one of many yet his finest, his heart proud as he carefully spoons a hefty serving of food onto twin plates on the kitchen table, a big bowl of salad greens dressed delicately in homemade dressing and fine crumbles of parmesan sat in the center of the table. He is pleased, hands on his hips and beaming with joy, sighing with a housewife’s content.

 _‘He will love this,_ ’ he grins to himself. He’s sure of it as he saunters out of the kitchen, through the living room and down the hallway towards his bedroom where Roman is staying. He’s so excited and teeming with happiness already envisioning Roman’s approval, his lips curved upward in that golden boy grin that turns Bill’s heart right into honey. He sees that the door is open and he lets himself in unannounced. Roman is sat upright at the side of the bed, pretty face tight with what looks like agitation and a scowl on his face as his fingers tap away rapidly at his phone. Bill notices and his mood shifts into concern, keeping his distance between them as he stands near the door, fingers picking at a loose thread of his shirt. This feels all too sickeningly familiar and it feels like someone had taken an ice pick to the back of Bill’s head, the ache blistering and unforgiving.

“Dinner is ready, baby,” he says gently, hoping that Roman hears him, hoping that the pins in his stomach will stop stabbing at him. A couple of seconds pass by, the silence feeling agonizing and as he watches Roman’s eyes widen in disbelief and then to upset at whatever is on his phone he thinks that Roman didn’t hear him, too ensnared in his own private drama. Bill is nervous now, his mouth running dry and his gaze downcast. Maybe he genuinely didn’t hear him. Maybe he’s just overthinking this again, like always. Roman seems pretty wrapped up in whatever conversation he’s having right now, already sending off another reply, rolling his eyes and scoffing after it’s sent.

Bill draws in a breath, mustering up his sweetest smile as he walks over to Roman, sitting down next to him to lean a kiss to his shoulder before resting his cheek against it. He’s tempted to peek at Roman’s phone to see what the fuss is about, but decides against it, instead keeping his eyes to the floor. He can feel his tension and attempts to soothe it, telling him softly again that dinner is ready. Almost immediately he feels like something between them snaps violently in two when Roman swears at him, refusing to look at him and telling him that he fucking heard him the first time. The pain is instant and Bill recoils, hit with a sudden urge to vomit and says nothing, leaving the room as quietly as he had entered.

The damage has been done and Roman is too late to realize it, his body jolting alert as the shock of what he had just said panics him, throwing him into emotional chaos. He closes his eyes in regret, hiding his face miserably in his hands, mouthing _“fuck fuck fuck fuck”_ silently into them, feeling as if doomsday had arrived at their doorstep and he, the four horsemen of the apocalypse that had just sentenced their relationship to the slaughter once again. He remembers how this ended the first time, why this ended the first time.

How could he be so fucking stupid?

They just fucking got back together and he does the same stupid fucking shit again and he grits his teeth through it, dropping his hands to the mattress, balling them into shaking fists, leans his head back and exhales hard into the air wishing that he could beat the shit out of himself for what he just did. His phone vibrates again and he ignores it, forcing himself out of Bill’s bed and makes his funeral walk towards the kitchen. He notices how beautifully the house smells, simmering warm with the scent of good food. He pictures Bill hard at work in the kitchen, dutiful and glad to be taking care of the one he loves, it’s scathing and sweet and it makes Roman want to throw himself out of the window. He steps into the kitchen and sees Bill sitting there at the table, wordless and unavailable, plate of food untouched while across from him is another plate already full with food and waiting for Roman’s attention.

And that is so like Bill. To be so considerate, to be so thoughtful of Roman that it’s almost nauseating.

Roman has never felt more ashamed of himself.


	5. shadow side.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> hurt people (who refuse to heal) hurt people.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the creative writing bug has struck again ahaha.

There were more than a few grievances that Roman had about the relationship, but the most pressing-- and most distressing, was the tendency that Bill had to blame Roman for things that never happened, communication break downs, false assumptions and paranoid snap judgements that Bill would make about Roman’s intentions, usually in the heat of another argument or in the aftermath of one. It was startling, confusing at first to Roman to see Bill behave so irrationally, running on emotionality, tension & fear. 

It didn’t make sense to him some of the accusations Bill would throw at him, usually with the cruel intention to hurt Roman’s feelings. And it worked with heart breaking success. This time Roman threw his hands up utterly spent with fighting, shaking his head as he balls his fists, jaw clenched tight. “Sometimes I feel like you just keep fucking punishing me for some shit somebody else did to you and I’m fucking _sick_ of it.” He could have been a little softer in his approach, but he was frustrated and felt helpless, the dam within finally snapping & giving way to the pain beneath. That particular admission stunned Bill, so much so that he was speechless for a moment, bewildered, the gears in his head creaking together to form some semblance of response. 

He wasn’t expecting that, nor was he expecting Roman to raise his voice when he said it. Normally it was Bill doing the yelling and Roman calm talking him down and gracefully through it all. Deep down Bill knew what he said was true. This back and forth was old, but the target was new and foolishly Bill thought he could claim yet another victim with his stupid schoolyard game. He was tragically mistaken. “Whatever that shit was, I didn’t do it to you, Bill,” Roman swears, purposefully lowering his tone as he kept Bill’s gaze. He sees the look of regret in Bill’s eyes and he falters, his heart crumbling as he exhales a trembling breath. “I didn’t fucking do that shit to you, okay? I fucking love you, okay?” He pauses for a second then before closing his eyes, shielding them with one hand as he chokes out a sob.

That was the first time Bill ever saw Roman cry. 

They embrace, standing alone together in the middle of Bill’s living room and it’s terrifying how it hurts. How it hurts to still be hurting and how it hurts Bill to realize he has hurt the one he loves because he himself has been hurting all of this time. He holds his body hard against Roman’s, wraps his arms around his middle, anchoring him close as if it's some kind of atonement, this skin meeting skin. He loves him, he whispers. Over and over and over Bill loves him so much and he’s sorry. He’s so fucking sorry that this is where it all began to go wrong.


End file.
